Falling from Grace, never had such a sweet embrace
by Pampers Baby Dry
Summary: He gave up his life as a wizard and lived in a self-appointed exhile. But the world he gave up, was about to snatch him back. He believed he didn't deserve happiness or forgiveness, but God showed him he did, by giving him an angel...SLASH Castiel/Severus
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

He didn't deserve it; it's why he didn't chase it. Men, he believed, like him didn't deserve a happy fulfilled life. Didn't deserve to have kids, friends, and family. They deserved what life threw at them, scornful looks, scathing comments, and the hatred of everyone. No matter what the heart wanted, no matter what _his _heart wanted, he threw away his life for them, an not one of them said thank-you, not one acknowledged what he had done, because what he did wasn't likable, it was sin. And he didn't like himself for it. Not even the bumbling Headmaster and his twinkling blue eyes that gazed with sorrow in his direction could make him believe he deserved to be happy. He was darker then the clothes he wore, his heart even darker. His soul destroyed.

The world hated him, his world loathed him. After the death of Albus Dumbledore, which was by his own hand, he knew more then anything happiness was not to be apart of his life. That one act in and of itself, settled his fate. He tore apart a family, a family at one point who might have accepted him, but by the heated looks and the foul words that presented death slipped passed sneering lips, he would say that, no, no longer was he accepted. He was alone, and he couldn't even blame the man who did it. Albus Dumbledore, had been his friend, had saved him, and in the end ruined him. And yet, he didn't blame the old man who he looked up to as the father he never had – since his father was lacking in the niceties department. No, he couldn't blame Albus for this, he himself was to blame, because he was the one who pointed his wand, uttered the killing curse, and deceived everyone.

Lies, his world had become built on them. Faking his death was a lie, but a necessary one. Negini's bite wasn't fatal. He asked the snake to attack him. What no one realized was that he was the heir of Slytherin and not Voldemort. Voldemort was one of those descended members of the line, not a direct link to Salazar himself. He was a Parselmouth. No one knew, not even Albus Dumbledore. And so it began. His lies, his cheating death, when no one wanted him alive. Negini did her part and he would miss the snake, there was no way a wizard would let the beast live, not when it was a possible Horcrux. It was thanks to her, he lived. And he would live. Not in happiness. Far from happiness. He'd live in guilt, in anger, sadness, and sore acceptance of the things life handed him.

Staring into the green eyes of the boy-who-lived, he gave up the one thing he had held onto for the last twenty years. His love for the boy's mother and his memories of her, all the emotional attachment that went with it; He was far from empty. He felt almost free, of her at least, but never from the happenings after her. He finished the last of his plan. He gave up his world. He gave up his life, to free them from his presence. He'd leave, he wouldn't stay. He'd disappear and never be seen by the people who once knew who he was. He never stayed for the end of the war, he was long gone by the time Harry Potter gave Voldemort the finishing blow. He never heard the sorrows of regret that shattered the hearts of the Hogwarts staff as the Golden Boy sprouted his life to the world. No he gave up his world, he gave up his magic, he gave up his wand and he disappeared.

He threw away his life for a second chance he knew he didn't deserve; he believed he didn't deserve it, so he didn't chase happiness. No, he lived a miserable, ignorant life away from wizarding Britain. He lived hidden in his grief from the British Isles itself, he survived on his will power alone in the dingy back roads of America, he lived for those he's raped, for those he's beaten, for those he's murdered in cold blood, he lived for there demise in Athens, Maine. He simply lived, soullessly, for all that he was and he prayed that one-day he'd be forgiven for his past transgressions. But he doubted.

He didn't deserve it, so he didn't chase it. Men, he believed like him, didn't deserve a happy fulfilled life.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Severus Snape, who now went by Sebastian Snape, stared longingly at the long slender dark wood wand. He could feel his magic pulling at him, begging him to pick it up and cast a spell, even a little one would do. But he scowled and turned away abruptly turning his back on it, as if he could turn his back on the reason why he left the wizarding world behind. He was a muggle now; his magic was just going to have to except it. And it hurt more then any one could ever make him feel. The magic was apart of him, he'd been using it for years and it was like denying himself something sweet. But he had been denying himself things for years and this was just another thing to add to the list.

Happiness.

Friends.

Family.

And now magic. He'd never seen or heard anything about the magical world in four years, it was a very long four years. Turning back towards the wand, he placed the cover in the wand box it rested in, shutting it out of his life, until the erge to look at it again became to strong. Giving a weary sigh, he glanced around his bedroom; it was the same, almost an exact replica to his rooms at Hogwarts. It was sparsely decorated, a double twin (who needed anything bigger when you alone would be using it?), a wardrobe, a bedside table which he was standing before, its cherry oak draw open. On top sat a lamp. The room itself was white, plain. Placing the wand gently back into the bedside table draw, he closed a door to his past. It was time to get on with his future, even if that future was bleak and undesirable.

Severus had a set routine. Wake up, shower, get dressed, stare at his wand, put wand away, go make coffee, read the Athens Local Paper, then proceed into town, grab the necessities, go back to his place, close himself off from the rest of the town, do something that caught his fancy, stare at his wand, and then go to bed, and then repeat it again tomorrow. It was a dull mundane muggle life. No excitement what so ever. Severus didn't need to work; he was set for life with the Prince Vaults, which were signed away to him, with the untimely death of his mother in his second year at Hogwarts. He also had the Slytherin vaults handed to him when he hit magical maturity at eighteen. So Severus Snape was a wealthy man, a very wealthy half-blood, he was also a very wealthy muggle that isolated himself from the rest of the town except when it came to the necessities. When Severus left, he made sure, that weeks before he transferred almost all of his money to a muggle vault, which any one muggle or wizard couldn't trace.

He never talked to the people of Athens, Maine unless they spoke first. When Severus deposited himself into this self-induced isolation, he really did mean isolation to the fullest extent. Watching the black liquid as it dripped into the coffee pot, he thought maybe he should do something else. Possibly not read the paper, or forgo his trip into town. He rubbed his index finger against his lower lip, a habit he acquired sometime in his fifth year, and he never really stopped. Life was boring, shouldn't he spice it up a bit? He could possibly let in a little pleasure? Maybe brew a potion; he hadn't brewed one since Christmas of last year (a little gift to himself since he managed not to touch magic for three years). What harm could it bring? A small draught of some sort, it's not like it could alert anyone of these muggles that he was a wizard. Muggles were always turning a blind eye to what they didn't understand.

Snapping from his thoughts at the small bell that coffee pot gave off, he took a mug from his very sparse collection of cups (he only had five, a tea cup and four mugs), poured the inky liquid into the cup. Walking towards the table, which the local paper lay, he sat down cracked the paper open and took a sip of his coffee. The bitter liquid bathed his tongue, the aroma filling his nostrils. This used to be the amount of excitement he would allow himself every day, but today he was going to brew a potion; maybe a sleeping draught, or skelgrow, something challenging, but simple, maybe some wolfsbane?

Severus narrowed his eyes on the headline, his cup of coffee coming to rest on the table.

_**Frank Family murdered, Who is responsible?**_

He skimmed the small paragraph.

The Franks were murdered brutally. Severus never knew them personally, but he had, had a small brief conversation with Senior Franks sometime ago. Was it a month? Him, his wife and two little girls. He closed his eyes snapping the paper shut, just the thought of two innocent girls being brutally murdered, sent his stomach rolling. He may have killed, but it had been years ago, and still even then it made his stomach roll with something dark and disgusting. Cursing he leapt from the chair and dumped his coffee down the sink.

He'd make an anti-nausea draught later. Every time he saw a death, weither it be human or animal in the paper, he was brought back to the past and he hated the past. The dark thoughts, the anger, the sorrow, the guilt….

Shaking his head, he threw the thoughts away, but he knew they would resurface again, they always do. He may have been a master Occulmans but not even he can occlude emotions. He go into town, get what he needed done, come back and get lost in an art he loved. He didn't drive, there was no need, town was five minutes away, and walking would do his skin good. It was still a sallow looking pale color; he suspected it always would be, he hadn't changed much since his Hogwarts Professor/Death Eater/ Spy days. He still looked as greasy as he did back then, still looked pale and mean. The only difference was the muggle cloths he wore and the soft set of lines on his forehead. He was still angry, but not as much as he used to be. There was no one to get angry at but himself.

Staring up into the sky, it reminded him of an old friend; looking back towards the town he couldn't help but let the thought of the murder drift through his head. Were these murders connected to the others that had been happening here since he moved into the old house?


	3. Chapter 2

You fall to your knees  
You beg, you plead  
Can I be somebody else  
For all the times I hate myself?  
Your failures devour your heart  
In every hour; you're drowning  
In your imperfection

~Skillet (insperation for this chapter..)

**Chapter 2**

Severus cursed and the worlds that left his lips would even make a sailor swear. The attack was unexpected. He'd gotten rusty and let his guard down. It's the only way they could have found him, that, and his last name wasn't all that common in the states, actually he had to be the only man in the states with the last name, Snape. So yes, he cursed, and man did it make him feel great.

The signs were all there and he missed them. But they were staring him in the face, the one thing that really made sense was the one thing he gave up. How else could you explain the existence of the Frank Family? Exactly magic. He should have changed his last name, but no, he wanted something to remind him of whom he really was, not the potions or his wand, he wanted his name. This is where it got him. Throne into a cell that had a dampening spell. How did he know, well, he wasn't all that gifted with wandless magic but he could dabble a bit with it. Simple spells. And not one worked. And that pull against his magical core every time he touched the stone wall.

He was pissed, no, beyond pissed. But he sat and watched the small family across the hall. They were up to something? But what? What would Death Eaters be doing in the states? And why were they not locked up in Azkaban receiving the Kiss?

The ministry was as shit, as when he left.

"Sebastian…." Coal black eyes looked at Senior Frank. He looked away.

"It'll be fine," he said cutting off the man. Severus knew he had to get these people out. He needed them to be calm; they needed to be reassured that everything would work out. But he knew, nothing would be okay. If he some how got them out, they'd be changed and not for the better.

"That's not what I was talking about," whispered Senior. "And you don't need to kid us, nothings going to be alright, hello, military man right here. But thanks for the reassurance, it's appreciated." Severus nodded.

"You know, I think I know more about you in the last three days, then the four years you've been living in town"

"Indeed."

"Okay, I get it you don't want to talk, " Severus glared, "But one question, what are they going to do with us?"

"That I is the question isn't it." it most certainly was. They lapsed into silence. A tension filled silence that wrung the occupants of the cells. Severus thought back to three days ago. He should have defiantly seen the signs.

--------------

_Severus gave up the questions that floated into his head as he walked into the grocers. Grabbing a cart he nodded toward Mrs. Allen, a sweet old woman in her seventies. She probably should have been retired, but the old woman was adamant about it. Severus may not have talked to a lot of the town's folk, but he defiantly listened around. It started in produce section, amongst the fresh cabbages he should have seen something wrong, but he didn't. _

_He didn't show he was startled, but he was. And the blood in his veins turned to ice. _

"_Severus, it's been a long time."__Turning around, Severus coal black eyes gazed into the steel gaze of a maniac, because the crazed look in that mans eyes screamed anything but sane. _

"_Malfoy" a sneer curling his lip. "Your looking worse for wear" he said, pushing the cart towards the potatoes. _Act like nothings wrong, your still a wizard, act ignorant, act muggle_. The words vibrated through his skull. _

"_Yes well, the living conditions at Azkaban aren't up to par," he said saddling up next to Severus. _

"_So you got away from the final battle, I could have sworn you've gone down" Severus picked up a potato or two and felt their texture. He placed them in his cart and moved on. _

"_The draught of living death, is a very handy potion to have on hand" his cane tapped the ground twice. "To bad they caught me on my way to France, the potter boy's be come a nuisance. He's a good Auror, trained by the best I heard." _

"_And why Lucius would I need to know that?" _

"_Don't you care about that boy, I figured you'd like to know how the boy wonder was doing, after all you did betray our lord for him," Severus' shoulders tensed._

"_I care nothing for Potter." He shouldered past the Death Eater. "And your Lord was different from the man I joined." _

"_Yes, you never did care for the boy, it was the boys mother," he said Malfoy smirking. Lily was always a sore spot for Severus. He may have loved her, but as a sister and nothing more, why is it everyone thought differently? "You were there that night weren't you, you saw how or Lord murdered her, I think that warrants you having a hand in her death, shame really she was a fine woman for a mudblood." He laughed, that stupid aristocrat laughed, Severus controlled his anger, even if he wanted to lash out and kill the bastard. _

"_What is it you want, Lucius?" _

"_A favor, if you would."_

"_Look elsewhere"_

"_Sorry can't"_

"_Well then too bad for you."_

"_Not really, I know you'll do it" Severus turned towards Malfoy Sr. Glared. _

"_And what makes you say that."_

"_Oh nothing big, just that if you don't we'll raid the town, I mean what's a few muggles between friends right?" _

"_I was never your friend" he said. Severus couldn't believe he was giving up, but looking around at the innocent muggles, he knew he would. He wouldn't ad them to his list of murders. And there really wasn't much he could do without his wand. _

"_That pains me, it really does" said Malfoy walking towards Severus. Severus growled as Lucius gripped his elbow, "Down boy, just a sidelong apparition." Severus hated apparition, even if it was the fasted way of travel, feeling like your being sucked up by a vacuum wasn't all it's cracked up to be. _

_Severus stumbled slightly, yes, he was defiantly rusty; they landed in front of a large house, it was old and rickety, and it looked almost haunted. Severus didn't doubt some ghost inhabited the place. _

_Severus followed Malfoy Sr. into the house and he saw five more Death Eaters. He didn't know their names, but he knew who they were. They were apart of the lower ranks of Voldemort's lackeys. It would seem that Malfoy was the key player, he was a good duelist, and the other five were crap. _

_Severus sneered at them and they gave back just as good, he rolled his eyes. Puppets. The lot of them, no will of there own. Severus hated men like that. Severus followed Malfoy through better part of the house before they came upon a door, when it opened, stairs descended into darkness. The cellar. Even the Dark Lord held his companies in the cellars. No originality. _

"_Sebastian?" came the hesitant voice, of a man who should have been dead. Severus found himself turning to look into the face of Senior Frank. Yes something was defiantly up. If they were alive, there deaths were faked. _

_Polyjuice. The only explanation, an advanced version; Polyjuice lasts for only a few hours, but there was one that could last for months with out continuous doses. His advanced version, one no one really knew about, unless they knew where to get the notes. Which he had with him at his house? _

"_You've been in my house" he said, it wasn't an accusation, it was a fact. Malfoy laughed. _

"_You've gotten rusty, you've lowered yourself to a muggle" he said, " Filthy blood traitor. Well summon you when you're needed." _

_---------------_

And here he was. Sitting patiently, doing absolutely nothing. There was nothing here to distract him from his thoughts, and when he thought, he thought of everything. Everything from his childhood, right down to his faked death. And he didn't think any more deaths would help his already broken soul.

He was blaming himself for not seeing the signs, but he didn't see them, because really there were no signs to see. He wasn't rusty, just human. And Severus hated being human.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"This is insane." Dean said, slamming the hotel door behind him. Sam grunted and fell face first into the bed. The Winchesters come from a lone line of hunters; hunters being humans who were aware of the supernatural and who protect the ignorant people from the supernatural, even if they go against ever law in the book to do it. Sam and Dean have been against anything you can think of, they fought ghosts, poltergeists, windigo's, tulpa's, vampires, and werewolves, even demons. But this, this was just insane.

They'd fought against war, one of the four horsemen and survived. But seriously, there are only so many things you can take, before you start to wear down. The Winchesters were dead tired; having been up against more then a couple dozen demons two days straight could do that.

"How are these sons of bitches even finding us?!" Dean groaned as he dug through his duffle looking for some clean clothes, he didn't much like wearing cloths that were almost covered fully by blood. He grimaced as he ran a hand through his extremely short hair cut that simply added to the Winchester charm.

"Not a clue, now shut up, I'ma going to sleep" Sam mumbled snuggling deeper into the ratty hotel sheets. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, I'm taking a shower, you hold down the fort" he said casually, a grunt followed as he closed the shower door. Placing the clean clothes on the toilet Dean pouted at the goop in his hair.

"Man this is going to take forever to get out," he whispered. Stripping he turned the shower on. He sighed and his body became lax as the hot water soothed his aching muscles. Closing his eyes Dean let his thoughts flow, they were unorganized and jumbled but still understandable.

The Apocalypse was upon them. Demons and Angels, at one point Dean was a skeptic, but now, not so much. Not with Castiel hanging around, that man believed God was alive, now Dean had trouble with that. God, the big man, a one-man show. Castiel was looking for God; well Dean wished the angel luck. Lucifer was planning to use his Sammy as a vessel, but Dean won't allow it, not on his watch. Opening his eyes Dean stared at the lime-scum tile, he shuddered at the thought of Stoner-Cas; no, Dean hoped Castiel never changed!

Dean almost pouted as he recalled his future-self – he was a complete and utter dick. Dean hopped he would never throw his friends to the wolves-ever! And this whole vessel deal, Jesus, the angels should just give up, because he was never going to say yes!

Dean distantly heard his cell ring.

"Hey get that would ya Sammy!" he yelled. He heard an undignified thump, followed by a few curses, he snickered turning off the shower. Toweling off and getting dressed, Dean felt like he could sleep for a week.

Walking out of the bathroom running a towel through the little hair he had, he watched with a brow raised as his brother lazy changed his clothes.

"Showers free" he said chucking the towel towards his duffle, he didn't care where it landed. With a grateful sigh he belly flopped onto the hotel bed, ready to get some well disserved rest.

"I wouldn't relax just yet, Cas is on his way."

Dean groaned. There was a slight sound of wings fluttering, before he felt him. Castiel may have been cut off from heaven, but the man still left such a presence.

"Couldn't this wait till tomorrow?" Dean grumbled his face smashed into the hotel pillow.

"No" came the raspy voice of the angel. "Its important, the angels have been talking."

"All they do is talk, it's like a massive slumber party up there." Dean rolled over and sat up facing the angel, who was residing in a man who looked like he belonged to the IRS. "What's it this time, they talking about boys and who'd they sin for?"

Castiel had a confused look on his face, the more Dean stared, the more he realized the human world was having on the angel, he just hoped to god, that stoner-Cas never comes into fruitation.

"No" Castiel said skeptically. "They're talking about something big happening over in Athens, Maine." This caught both brothers attention.

"How big?" Sam said, who was leaning against the wall staring at the Holy-tax-accountant.

"Big" he said.

"Like demons getting the upper hand big?" questioned Dean. Castiel nodded. "Jesus Christ."

"Can you stop doing that please?" said Castiel; he hated it when Dean took the Lords name in vain.

"Sorry." Castiel shrugged accepting the apology, another human trait he picked up.

"And you want us to stop it."

"Yes." Castiel said, he looked towards both brothers, "and there's a person, you need to pick up."

"Why?"

"Because God told me to ask you" said Castiel as if it was an everyday thing, when in fact it wasn't an every day thing. When god's voice had drifted through Castiel's head, a sense of relief and warmth drifted through his being.

"I thought Raphael said he was dead," said Dean. Sam's eyes widened.

"God's dead!!" The two ignored Sam's outburst.

To Dean, Castiel looked as if Christmas came early. Well, it probably had.

"No, he's alive, Raphael was mistaken." Castiel said, "I would get him myself, but that place is dripping with Evil, I can't get close to the place. As a favor from God, please will you do this?"

Castiel watched silently as the brothers conversed quietly with subtle expressions. Five minutes passed, before it seemed they came to a decision.

"Yha, we'll do it," said Sam. Dean scowled at the floor before looking up at the ceiling. As if he was talking to the big man himself.

"Yha we'll do it, but you owe us!" Dean yelled at the ceiling, "You owe us big!" Dean turned towards Cas. "I guess this mean we get no rest?" he said with a smile, hoping that maybe just a couple hours to nap. But the serious look on Castiels face suggested other wise. But you can never tell with this guy, he was like Keanu Reeves. That can can act, but he was lacking some facial expressions.

"No." Dean slumped, his head coming to rest against his chest. Oh yha, God, owed them big time. But since Cas was here, he could ask the immediate problem.

"I thought you worked your mojo, so how the hell are the demons finding us?" If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say that Cas's usually stotic face actually looked concerned.

"I did and they shouldn't be able too" he said while Dean had his back turned packing his duffle. "I'll look into it, just deal with this fast." He said before he vanished from the room. When Dean turned around to address the angel and he wasn't there, he scowled.

"Why the hell do they do that?"


End file.
